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Story:The Skies Over Foamwander
Foamwander lays, resplendent in that it has remained, for the majority, untouched by the civil war that has rocked the planet for months. Civil patrol units on their routes. Civilians going about their business. Until alarm klaxons begin blaring, warning the Mon Calamari, and Quarren, in the city of impending danger. Time creeping on, as tension starts to rise within the boundaries. For the Republic forces, the sound of the alarm is an unwelcome one and the mentality of those present immediately changes from one of placid alertness to the frenzied acuity of an animal that knows that danger is just around the bend. For Galatea, the post in this city was meant to be one of active relaxation - unofficially a break from the front lines where the 224th were actively pursuing aggressive Quarren forces. For the combat medic, the alarm signaled a divide in the monotony and a resurgence of energy. She reveled in combat. The elegance, the activity and the challenge of deflecting a physical assault was her element. She is in a small squad, much like most of the other members of the Republic forces. Patrolling the city as if it were subject to martial law. For the most part, the citizenry had gotten used to the idea and business went on as usual. Now, most have gone indoors to various safe areas. Galatea presses her middle and forefinger to the side of her helmet to suppress the din of the alarm and take new orders. Colonel Marxis Vrankeen looks up from the hologrid to find a blinking red spot at the edge of his vision. An attack. They weren't ready for a force of this scale and the comm-lines were already flooded with messages from squad captains asking for orders to the issue. Straightening from his hunched position, the man eyes the grid. "Orders sir?" A subordinate questions at a control kiosk, waiting for the Colonel to come to a decision. "How much time do we have?" Marxis questions, rubbing his chin as he mulls over statistical data in his head. He dispenses with the inconvenience of rank and file mannerisms. "30 minutes. We're not sure how large the force is but it's definitely larger than what we have stationed on the planet. Not to mention the space that we'd need to cover to mount an effective defense against the brunt of the attack." Marxis considers this for a moment and then allows his hand to fall to the control panel. "Send a distress signal. It's obvious we can't hope to meet the attackers head on and break the coming wave. "Have each squad and their leader garrison themselves where they can. Our assailants can't afford to destroy the whole city. Have our armories emptied of any explosive devices we have available and boobie trap as much of the city as possible. It's likely we won't be able to do anything but delay until reinforcements arrive." The instructions are relayed and Galatea nods to no one in particular, checking the map on her HUD. "We're too far to load up," the combat medic says to the rest of her squad mates in clipped words. A quick glance about the surroundings and she finds a suitable place to hunker down. A smaller building with relatively thick plasteel walls. "Take every grenade, claymore and detpack you have and pepper this place with traps. We may accidentally kill some stragglers and damage some buildings but we have no choice. We'll hold out in that building." She points at the spot with an outstretched hand and unclips her carbine with the other, holding it with muzzle facing the ground and hanging at her thigh. "You have 15 minutes." The rest of the squad nod in unison and begin unpacking. Following the initial alarms, a Lambda class shuttle comes blazing in low over the horizon. Firing a couple of peremptory shots into a nearby square to clear himself a path, the pilot deftly brings the shuttle into a huddle before slowly settling onto is newly created landing site. Just before the struts touch down, the shimmer of shields disappear from the shuttle, and the ramp begins to lower. As the struts touch down, Daxin follows a squad of white clad Stormtroopers down the ramp. He stops near the bottom, taking cover behind the landing strut. As the blasters on the shuttle containing TK-4469 fire, the green trooper shudders. Not one of those oh crap shudders, but one of anticipation. This is his first time and blood begins rising, he can hear his heart rate in his ears, all the signs of 'trooper fever'. "How much longer til we land, Sir?" He squaks in a shaky voice over the squad comm. With the stretch of the short thirty minutes, the preparations, and the strain on those not used to combat and it's problems there comes a lull, even with the alarm ringing. Broken only when the screech of tie craft becomes audible over the city. In the northeastern quadrant, Interceptor class craft pour in, full flight squadrons bearing the insignia of of Black and Rapier squadrons. Green coherent light beams screeching in their all to recognizable tone in raking patterns across any visible NR or city patrol defense locations, as well as to hunt for NR fighter support. And shortly behind those come the more baritone howl of Scimitar class assault bombers. "Lieutenant Daxin, air screen is in place, await orders to begin drop, start with armor, then move in infantry." TK-4461 looks towards the other troopers contained within the Lambda transport with him. Answering 4469 as well as addressing the others, "Your drop locations are likely to be hotter than Ryloth's sunside. Keep to your squads, keep in active communication, and you -will- survive this encounter." He turns back to a display panel, hand gripping a ceiling hangstrap like iron. Y-86 Titan and Theta AT-AT Barges descend behind the TIE Screens, sensors showing the HIMS Prowler and Sentinel can be seen dropping from low travel orbit. Commander Rall taking in her situation and opening a holo communique to Commander Kesk in the Pillager near her starboard side. "Prepare batteries for anti-air fire, until we know for certain we can focus on ground operations..." turbo laser batteries throwing detrimental fire into the air to try and scare out Republic craft, as well as sending barraging blasts into the city itself. Colonel Marxis watches the dance of blips and blops across his holoscreen with practiced solidarity. His analytical mind crunches numbers and considers avenues that no machine could ever hope to replicate given the uncanny prescience biological experience and training could bestow on the leaders of military forces. Marxis' abilities could be the crucible on which the NR might be able to break the back of assailants - or it could spell their doom. He had given up including that fact in his decisions long ago; that was why he was sitting in the thick, shielded bunker instead of carrying a carbine outside. The mule was worth far more than the wolf. Intelligence was far harder to come by than strength. His hard eyes drift to the collection of green dots just outside of the city, flying low and inconspicuously over rocky terrain. Pulling his lips into a straight line, Marxis addresses the individual behind the comm-line. "Get markers on known landing points and let's find out where those enemy troops are moving. I need densities. Have our infantry stay out of sight. Make sure that armor is camouflaged or hidden if possible. Air support is to be on standby." The subordinate nods and relays the information over a secure channel. Imperial air support does not find any resistance in the city and is instead met with nothing more than relatively empty streets. Civilians have been corralled into bunkers or basements where they'd be relatively safe. The Republic guard waits. Galatea peaks out from a thick block of concrete and peers up into the sky watching interceptors and arbitrary fire grace the sky like fireworks. The combat medic doesn't appreciate beauty. Turning to the rest of her squad, she offers one last nod of encouragement and crouches down with her head pressed up against the wall and carbine at the ready. Her breathing is steady, quiet; her mind clear and knowing of what was about to occur. She almost grins. Daxin pilots his shuttle to the south edge of town. Not meeting any hard resistance other than small arms fire, the shimmer of shields disappear from around the shuttle. Wings still locked in flight mode, he appears to be reconnoitering at this point, weapons still putting out the random red burst of laser energy. Moving with the sway of the ship, TK-4461 frowns beneath his helmet. As the TIEs continue their sweeps, the DX-9 shuttles and armor transports begin to touch down. Shield systems coming offline as they prepare to disgorge their compliments. At least it would seem as such, until, escorted by the advance of the Corvettes come two new waves, to the direct west and south of the tie approach. One of which reconnoitering where the Lambda shuttle has moved to hover, hatches opening on the sides of some of the barges to unleash a torrent of Scout Troopers mounted on their 74-Z speederbikes, dropping in scatter formation. "Lieutenant you may begin your landing now. Muster with the other infantry craft." The newly arrived barges start to drop first, sides opening wider to allow A9 Flying Fortresses to emerge, flanked by AT-ST and AT-AA armor support. "The majority of the assailing forces have appeared to have landed, sir." He looks over his shoulder to make sure that the Colonel has absorbed what he has said. It wasn't entirely abnormal for a commander to get lost in their minds, lulled to a trance state by the soft march of colors across the holoscreen and the gravity of what they were responsible for. Marxis nods his acknowledgment, his unblinking gaze not breaking away from the screen. As reports come in, the screen gets more and more populated by red dots of varying size and description. There was an odd attraction to seeing the battlefield paint itself on the screen. A collection of individuals working off of individual information with collective goals made for a curious tapestry. "Call in our air support. When they're within a couple kilometers from the landing zones unveil our artillery and focus on those corvettes and the interceptors. I want our bombers free to blanket those landing spots in flame." Marxis pierces the image with his finger placing rally points and targets that would be relayed to the NR forces. "Have infantry move to higher ground and use whatever remaining munitions that have to take out the scouts. Have them stay covered. We're not trying to be heroes here, we're trying to hold them off until we get reinforcements." The comm-lines are a flurry of activity once again. With new orders received, Galatea turns to the squad and nods, confirming her acceptance. The other three members of the squad immediately get up and track their way up the building's floors to give them a better vantage point to take on whatever speeders and forward infantry have made it to their position. They hunker down on the third floor. High enough to provide advantage but low enough that they'd survive a jump - even if it they wouldn't feel to good after it. All that remained was to wait until something came into view. The squads closer to the landing points come out of hiding, and start aiming at the perimeters to try and slow the advance of landing troops. The landing craft under the north eastern screen of fighters remain closed, no activity whatsoever for the moment. But at the western and southern ridges, the movements continue to flourish. Stormtrooper squad after squad marching off of the transport shuttles, with Floating Fortresses pushing the line of scrimmage with AT-STs pounding weapons fire into buildings and the ground. Scout troopers whirl past through the air, taking in recon information. "Advance slowly, they'll use Rebel tactics as ever, scout for traps and keep losses to a minimum for now. Captain Mungral, maintain your push east, and we will start our advance north..." Sensors for the NR counting somewhere around an entire cohort of Stormtroopers alone at each drop point, with a score of AT-AA and ST providing armor support on either end, and a quintet of Floating Fortresses for ground fire support. The Pillager then opens up with the Maurauder's feared form of assault, Diamond-Boron missile launchers throwing out flak and anti-personel missiles, their groupings respectfully going to the air and land per their type. "Squads One through Four, move in your assigned directions, and be prepared for our other little surprise..." rushing down the ramp with his own squad, blaster at the ready. Tarps laden with optical imagery are pulled back from AA cannons and infantry load up personal rocket launchers in an attempt to clear a path for the bombing squads that are pulling into space where sensors will not have a hard time picking them up. For all intents and purposes, the squadron has been split up into two and intend to criss-cross across the city to try and take a chunk out of the enemy while they were more or less in the same place. It was a suicide run to some degree, where the ships would be put at incredible risk but some gambit was being made on confusing the enemy enough with the sudden inclusion of artillery fire coupled with the republic fighters spearheading the event. Annihilation wasn't the objective, instead the NR army wished to wound and harm as many infantry as possible. For this, they had loaded up with napalm-like weapons designed to melt through armor and flesh without putting the civilians bunkered away at risk. It was far easier to clean up that the debris left from explosions. A ship or two within each group are armed with EMP-type armaments, intending to disable as much armor and machinery as possible. The fighters accelerate ahead as the cachunk-cachunk of artillery pistons driving high velocity energy projectiles try and cover the sky with flack and drive a wedge into the Imperial air line. Within moments, if all went well, the bombing squads would make a sweep over the most dense areas they could see on their sensors, filling the street with magnetic pulses and rolling fire. Air assaults from the long time used former rebel tactics was expected. And while losses to flak from the fighters may be noteworthy, and there will be no shortage of ground injuries from such a movement. The use of AT-AA units comes into full circle. Their massive missile batteries swiveling to throw flechette and energy flak into the to blunt the bombing run forces. With the ground towers firing against them, the TIE units begin to pull up, heading skyward to get out of range and behind cloud cover, the Scimitar classes leading the retreat whilst the Corellian Class Prowler and the Maurauder Pillager open up fully with their arsenal of anti-fighter weaponry, all but elevation maintaining thrusters taken offline to provide shield power. Still, weapons do break through, cutting scores into the ships hulls, forcing them to back off as well, to make a place between the landing forces. The north eastern landing craft still do nothing... they don't even have anti-air. All that they do is detonate violently with the coming of the bomber forces. A decoy to draw off fire. Imperial forces have been pushing from the south and western edges of Foamwander, a thousand troopers strong on either front, working more to close the small gap between them with combined use of the 501st, a squadron of Scout Trooper forces divided between them, AT-ST, AA, and A9 Floating Fortresses for armor support. The Corellian and Maurauder class corvettes Pillager and Prowler maintain heightened alert, with TIE-Interceptor squadrons Black and Rapier flying barcap, with Scimitar squadrons Widowmaker and Talon on ready status. Working block by block, practically demolishing buildings offering resistance. Imperial forces keep up their press with the expected savage efficiency. It is not the disorderly rout of some past battles that greet the Imperial forces, a tactical retreat technique adopted by the forces garrisoned here though even that is done with meticulous care. The volleys directed against the Imperial forces up above continue unabated, hidden batteries keeping up a steady rate of fire and, perhaps surprisingly, not more than a handful of volleys are sent from any single spot before the weapon is moved. The city is truly ravaged in this, not only by the Imperials, but intentionally so by the Republicans, buildings detonated at times to hinder movement forward, and backwards at time too. In an effort to keep the two forces divided, more forces are directed at the gap between the two Imperial formations, heavy armour moved in the form of the T4 tanks, and artillery barrages are sent from the opposite side of the city. Ansforth moves with one of the command units from the south end. Snapping off blaster bolts at visible targets, but more directing the flow of troops via the scrambled trooper comm systems. "Copy, EK sector One collapsed building, batter through if possible, move around if neccessary," he grumbles and watches the fighter screens sweep through, small squads of Scimitar bombers roiling in their wake, carpet bombing the buildings that appear too dug in. "Send in the reinforcements... we've had enough of this rebel scum..." and from the ranks of the common folk, something perhaps a that may possibly be unexpected occurs. 'Vode An' the ancient war anthem of the original Clone Army, and in turn the anthem of the 501st itself begins playing over every available comm frequency save for those scrambled for Imperial use. Having spent time on planet with a select others before the rest of the invasion force came, TK-4461 had a special assignment amongst other troopers -- Drill instruction. From the ranks of civilians in evacuation, the sewers, and possibly even those aiding the New Republic in their tactical retreat... Quarren 'refugees' of the civil war begin opening fire on their intended protectors, and Mon Calamari alike. Acting in eerily precise Stromtrooper fashion. Now where did those come from? They are successful in throwing a wrench in Republican planning for the now, units that were held back in reserves sent forward to deal with the hordes suddenly coming out of the woodwork, or as is the case, the sewers and various other such places. The vast majority of the units assigned to Foamwander come straight from NR Army ranks, allowing for the larger-than-usual presence in armour and other mechanized troops. Specialized, rapid-response squads equipped with speeder bikes and with support from a handful of the heavier pieces are sent to contain and roll over the Quarren guerrillas, all intended to permit the front units to remain committed to their fight against the Imperials and in particular those who have been tasked with keeping the two Imperial forces separate for an eventual counterattack. The threat from above, it is hoped, is assigned to the hunter-killer teams spread throughout the city, armed with heavy launchers they immediately take aim at any bomber that gets within reach of them, and they are permitted to move as required, not being tasked to any specific section of the city and allowed to move as often as possible to keep them from being picked out at will. The Imperial Army units are especially hard targetted, with snipers hidden within the rubble and within buildings taking aim at any enemy trooper with officer insignia on them, all in an effort to throw chaos into Imperial ranks. Confusion reigns for moments when those marked as officers are dropped by sniper fire. Causing brief halts before the Stormtrooper forces they are attached to take full command. With bombers being fired at, and some downed, by rocket fire the Pillager's purpose comes to full bear, Prowler holding as a protective screen with its mass of turbo lasers, the Maurauder class begins launching its quad tube missile barrages into sectors where guerilla sniping is coming from, a slash and burn mentality being applied, though in the advance rather than in the retreat. Particular salvos being focused in the location of T4 emplacements, the Imperial teams pushing hardest to close the gap. From the eastern branch of the city, more DX-Delta 9 trooper transports begin to drop under cloud cover, skimming the water to unload their compliments of scout trooper squadrons, bent on pushing in on another front, whilst the other half the Scout forces weave amongst both Imperial and NR forces, satchel charges and thermal detonators being left in their wakes, speeding through with hit-and-run tactics rather than strafing... a very un-501st tactic if there ever was one. The AT-AAs keep their flak launchers continue to fill the air with detrimental fire where the TIE and Scimitar craft are not, AT-ST and A9 craft pouring heavy fire into buildings and any exposed retreating forces they can find. The batteries at the eastern edge of the city are trained in almost their entirety at the troop transports, the rate of fire accelerated at the detriment of the ability to land truly massive hits on the heavier fighters and the two capital ships orbiting above. The sniper units, teams really, are scrambled and told to get closer in with Imperial troops, in particular Stormtrooper ones, in an effort to give the Imperials' aerial support the option to continue their fire and risking hitting their own crack troops or else redeploying. Adequate support is provided by the counter-attack from several mechanized companies, intent on driving wedges between the Stormtrooper cohorts and the lighter Army units thereby isolating those and allowing them to be picked off at will. There is particularly heavy fighting at major intersections and passageways of the city, bridges in the lost sections blown up to hinder the easy movement of Imperial reinforcements to those units engaged at the front, such as it is. Fire controllers are sent forward with the counter-attacking units, and with their help accurate fire begins to be directed against areas of heavy Imperial armour concentration from the artillery deployed at the rear of Republican lines. With the inability to crush buildings housing snipers, the Pillager focuses missile fire unto the rear lines in particular. Prowler keeping up her heavy turbo response, blasting craters into buildings behind the NR lines, with the intentions of reducing their cover points in the retreat. At the locations of attempted wedges, Stormtrooper forces become more concentrated, pushing up from hidden rear ranks Lambda and spared DX-9s moving forward, shields engaged to provide mobile cover and heavy fire support to allow the A9 Floating Fortresses capability to lead some of the charge to focus the Imperial forces into one solid fighting unit, the regular army and Quarren conscripts amongst their finding themselves more in positions of willing canon fodder to allow the 501st to gain each centimeter of ground that they take whilst the Republic pulls back. The bridge blowing causing a semi-planned shift in trooper movement, bridge travel being ignored more or less unless scout units have given an all clear. The eastern bound drop craft begin to pull up, those not shot down having deployed their combat cargo, who move across the distance at much greater speed due to their speederbikes. Concussion launchers mounted on the fortresses and the AT-ST units begin launching into buildings as well as into open range, with the occasional secured AT-AA firing their flak barrages into the buildings as well, to spray death unto sniping holes. The easy time the scout troops have had until now begins to wind down with squads sent to take them out, one by one if need be, with particular attention paid to those with the explosives. And the same might be said of the overall Imperial advance, the farther in they get into the city, the tougher the fighting and the slower the rate at which Republican forces redeploy deeper in. Foamwander itself does not fare well, though survival is worth some things, entire streets blown to smithereens, and buildings collapsed on Imperial forces nearby or within them, or simply even to either hinder their movement or channel them to pre-prepared killzones. The vehicles that spearhead the Imperial advance come under heavy fire, not simply from the deeply dug-in and bunkered down artillery within the city itself, but from roving teams of missile-armed soldiers. The battle rages on, not only at the front-line with a renewed counteroffensive, with the renewed counter-offensive from the garrison, but also well behind the lines, the troops there still dogged in their attempt to refuse the two Imperial forces, the southern and western one, from linking up. In the hours that have passed, the pace of fighting does not seem to have lessened, if anything it has only increased with more units, much of them from the 39th Army Corps, being committed. Demo-charges set off in their continued advance north and west, the forces under TK-4461 plod onward, 4460 having been destroyed by an errant artillery blast, landing Ansforth his wanted return to full leadership position. With every shot fired from snipers dogging the flanks, buttons are pressed by covert Scout Troopers to set off shape charged detonations placed against expected sniper roosts, and by Quarren whom had been sabotaging subterranean support structures to send Republic sniping forces tumbling to their ends. Watching missile fire slam against the hulk of one of the A9s, he frowns beneath his helmet, initiating scrambled comms through the Stormtrooper comm-unit that has been given to the command transport officer. "Lieutenant Daxin, New Republic forces are attempting a counter offensive. Initiate Operation Besh-Seventeen immediately," dropping to a kneeling posture behind defilade then as Scout Trooper sniper corps lean up to snap off shots, and Storm Commando artillery units launch lob-mortars and rocket fire at bunkered in resistance. "4463, burst transmission to The Nest, tell them all is clear for SG Operations to commence at their soonest opportunity," his fellow stormtrooper nods, relaying the information out on the scrambled signals. Using some of the explosions and building debris as cover, Daxin swoops his Lambda-class shuttle, low over the south western horizon. In tight formation with the shuttle are some Y-86 Barges and DX-9 Transports. Pulling into a hover which kicks up even more dust and debris, he begins to lower the ramp. "Roger that 4460. Besh one-seven now in effect. I brought a present for you as well." As the arriving ships grind to a stop, 2 full cohorts of STs arrive in Foamwander, along with the support of AT-ST and AT-AA. Also arriving on scene is the /present/. A full quad of AT-AT walkers emerge from the dust cloud kicked up by the shuttle. "Hope you can use these." With the last white armored boots on the ground, the blue hazy shimmer of shields appear around the shuttle as he begins to close the ramp. How long has this going on? Hard to tell, it has been a while now and the dust and debris and ash thrown up by constant artillery barrages, missile volleys, exploding housing blocks and secondary fires by now has tumbled the city into perpetual twilight as it blocks out the sun. Gripping her rifle tighter and taking a moment to rearrange the strap of her helmet, the young marine is pressed against what is left of a wall, crouching, while peering over to her squad leader to see what crazy idea is next. "News on when the reinforcements are inbound yet and we get out of this meatgrinder, sir?", she mumbles into her microphone. Well, got to keep things in perspective, right? Not waiting for an answer, she goes back to her feet, propping her rifle on the edge of what is left of that wall, and sighting down to the troopers in white and grey advancing. "Eggshells in the open.". Laslo meets his subordinate's eyes with hard worn indifference and responds with a nonplussed grunt. The man despised battle but whatever high-faluted concept of honor he held on to kept him in the grit - and his hide was the canvas on which the scars of his burden were displayed. He also had no time for humor in a situation that was nothing but serious. "Shut your hole and focus before I put you in one," he growls as he comes out of a light jog to halt and peer over the very wall the marine had her rifle balanced on. Hunched with his own weapon cradled at the ready at his chest, his eyes briefly scan the scenery, comparing them to his down digitial readout on his HUD. "Let's spread out. Find whatever cover you can and try to funnel them into here." A red dot is broadcasted to the squad members to coordinate the offensive defense. "Call out breaks in the funnel." One of the more quiet ones in his squad, Genkal Hoxz's eyes remain focused on the surrounding, the large pupils within darting this way or that as he watches for sign of enemy contact. The young Mon Calamari soldier does not look as pristinely clean as others, his armour already bearing signs of wear and tear and blood, though fortunately not his own as shown by its red colour. "Perhaps that might not be such a bad idea, Sir.", is the only comment he offers in return for the squad leader's worded threat to she-who-does-not-know-when-jokes-are-not-appropriate, never mind that neither of them are serious. When the order comes to move, the man advances, "Sir, perhaps we should try and draw some of them here, I might be able to rig something and plant it somewhere if someone is willing to pla the bait." A number of Stormtroopers amongst the squads shake with laughter at the mentioning of presents. The all too well known grind and chunk of AT-AT walkers on the move easily audible in the brief silences between bombardments. "4463 upload these coordinates to the AT-AT commanders and order them to fire the chin guns at full power... Rebels want to rubble this city on us... lets see how they appreciate the return." Spotting open areas in their walk line, he gives a brief halt order, looking to the AT-STs amongst the units and sends a brief order via comms, heavy blaster and concussion launcher fire rushing into the open zones, along with several volleys of Thermal Detonator strikes. Sending up clouds of smoke and debris. ** "Daxin, tell Widowmaker and Talon we need a carpet bombing at these coordinates, have Interceptor forces fly cover, and then get over here, we'll be needing the mobile shield wall again. ** Pulling off his landing spot, the Lambda makes its way to Ansforth's position, "On my way." The shimmering of shields can be seen to intensify, pulling the 'double front' rotation. He hovers just infront of TK-4461 remaining. Nakasu just smiles at the berating she gets for not displaying the proper seriousness. At least until Laslo trots over and is waaaay to close to comfort to make silly remarks. She had seen what he can do with a knife. Nope, no wise-cracks from this marine. "Aye sir." it is instead as the command is given, her head lifting from the sights of her rifle to try to spot a good spot to set up a defensive position in said funnel, turning to regard the fisheye. "Don't dare to volunteer me.", she mumbles, before nodding to the other side to some of her squad mates. "Ready for covering fire.", she announces and waits for the first group to detach to find a new hiding hole. Laslo considers the suggestion for a moment and twists his head back to the communications officer and out towards the yet to be occupied choke zone. Coming to a decision, he unhinges his hand from the rifle's stock to enter coordinates into a forearm mounted datapad. With a final press, a blue box outlines the designated area for the placement of charges. The red dot stretches into a line detailing a general defensive line. "Alright, you and the funny girl can go rig up the area in front. Let's pull ourselves into a line slightly offset to your trap and we'll pull that flank in when the offensive gets into full swing." Laslo states in clipped tongue. "You," he points at the communications officer, "and you." Another squad member is pointed out. "Get a locator beacon up and running. Make it look like we're protecting a hidden weapon's cache or something similar. "The rest of you, follow the guidelines laid out on the overhead and listen for my mark." "Aye Sir, lead on Nakasu.", that way perhaps he'll have some warning should heavy fire be directed at them, though he does begin to walk forward, perhaps even taking point. "It's statistically more likely that we won't make it out of this the more you make these little comments. True fact, all Stormtroopers are armed with humour-detecting sensors, drives them quite crazy." Genkal's own words a mere iota above 'whisper level', not that that makes such difference, to some the cries of battle and the various sounds associated with the battle raging on deafening everything beyond what would be considered the immediate surrounding. When they arrive at the first location where a charge is to be planted, the Mon Calamari kneels on the ground, his rifle carefully propped up against some rubble and he removes a small bag from his rucksack, its adhesive properties used to stick to the designated wall and a few moments more spent trying to conceal the explosive. Just as he is on his way back up to his feet, the tell-tale sound of an incoming barrage is heard, growing stronger. "Crap, artillery/armour fire!", he barely has enough time to bark the warning into his standard issue microphone before the man is sent scurrying for cover. "Get down Nakasu." "Copy, Lieutenant, five mikes." With the Lambda's shields now providing cover the Stormtroopers begin their slow advance under aegis. The AT-STs and A9s continue to fire into buildings and downrange, expecting to be fired on now from any building, and deciding to level them instead of giving opportunity after all of this guerrilla fighting. Scout Troopers continue their push as well, buzzing the briefly fire-clear zones, throwing satchel charges through windows and sewer openings along their travels, weaving around obstacles to try and make them harder targets after all of the difficulties with snipers and rocketeers. The AT-AT company fire their secondary cheek guns into buildings as they walk, smashing them to rubble whilst Stormtrooper and smaller armor units press onward. From the skies overhead, the unmistakable whine of Ion engines can be heard. A full squadron of TIE Bombers arrives from the south and screams over the advancing Troopers. "Coming in to join the party!" From the cockpit of his shuttle, Daxin is firing large bursts of return energy into some of the buildings as rifle fire bounces harmlessly of his shields for now. "Roger that. Take your coordinates from TK-4461 and watch for heavy fire from the forward positions." Following the bombers is half a squadron of the pointy-winged TIE Interceptors. Oooh, fish eye is not getting a glare that could kill and a mouthed, "Just great...". Bringing up her rifle away from the comfortable rest ontop of that wall, it is slung over arm again, as Nakasu gets ready to go ahead for suicide mission number...damn, she lost count! "Come on, give me your 'sploduff!", she prompts the communication officer. Isn't like he will need it anytime soon. Once that is stowed, another glance is given over the wall, probably because of the metallic stomp getting closer. "That AT-ATs over there?", she wonders, then cursing under her breath as the fishhead starts moving out and and she has to scramble to catch up. Kneeling nearby, she too places one of the mines nearby, somewhere knee-height concealed behind some rubble, before the roll of the explosions comes up, closer, along with the wall of dust and debris. She does not need to be told twice, launching herself in the direction of a nearby building. Or whatever is left of it. While the explosions outside roll along, she pauses huddled near the doorway, once more pressed against that little cover the walls provide, before peering out into the dust-filled opening they were trying to mine. "Hey, fishhead, where the Force are you?", she calls out into the mic, only to duck back again as the sound of speeder bikes draws closer. Only to be drowned out by Tie fighter screaming. "Incoming...!". Concussion blasts grab Laslo's attention and he looks up at the sky just in time to see the air support pierce the sky and disappear outside of his field of vision. The audible collapse of buildings - far more than really should be happening for an occupational insurgency - instills some level of alarm in the commanding officer, sending his heart into a more frenzied pace. 'They're just destroying everything?' He was confused. It was time to change tactics. "The Imperial force is using scorched earth tactics. Fall back and focus on the lead scouts. Let's cut off their fingers." Laslo's words come fluidly and unbroken regardless of the infusion of adrenaline into his vascular system. "Taking cover within buildings is not advised. Try to find cover in alleys or behind other objects to avoid being crushed by falling debris." Nodding wordlessly to the two or three squad members with him after the rest of the squad was ordered to spread out, Laslo plants his toe into the ground and bounds off out of the building to try and find a better vantage point to survey the scene. It was time to try and draw a line in the sand. Leave it to the Imperials to not try and play nice and clean, it's like handing a bag of bricks over to an ADD kid in an antiq...well, you know. When the rain of explosives calm down just enough for him to peer out of his cover, the alien locates Nakasu and raises a hand to signal his position. "It's certainly not a protocol droid, and I don't think it qualifies as an Ubrikkian swoop. Come on, let's get the heck out of dodge.", many years spent among the humans when he was posted all over the Republic having forever ruined his ability to talk in a proper manner. His rifle carefully secured to his back, the man retrieves several of the charges in his backpack, hastily dropping on the ground and arming them, some rubble placed over them as carefully as he can afford. In particular are the heavier mines he retrieves and arms, hoping that at least some of them might carry out their intended design and take out the lead Imperial walkers and other vehicles. "Take some of these and drop them on the ground, that might slow down their advance. And careful arming them, don't expect me to carry you back to the squad if you blow your legs off. And hurry up, don't want to be stuck out in the open for when they appear." He is nearly running now, pausing only long enough to occasionally drop another charge, though even he runs out of them soon enough. "Let's make for the squad leader, okay? You heard what he said, no point in waiting in the buildings they'll just bring them down on us and I ain't dying on land this close to the sea." There is a thundering pulse, like electric thunder, and the chin guns of the AT-ATs fire almost in unison, blasting through buildings in the direction the newly appointed TK-4460 has designated. Though halted by buildings intervening, the great crimson lances of energy fire send entire buildings down into easily crushed rubble, others with one side or another severely weakened tilt drunkenly before collapsing down into the streets. Another call for the Scimitar assault bombers is made, the ponderous heavy attackers coming round for another carpet bombing, the Interceptor supports keeping tight checks on the surroundings. "Advance slowly, scout units first, regular army and The Legion follow after, sweep and clear, no prisoners..." The AT-STs start their forward march, Scout Trooper elements on bikes weaving around while others on ground follow up, taking sniping postures while others try to hunt for bombs. Some are located, but one of the walkers suddenly leaps to the side as if suddenly taught to jump, wheeling on one leg before slamming to the ground, crushing a speederbike mounted scout trooper beneath it. "Mines! They've laid mines!" 4460 grunts at that, shaking his head. "Copy, scout demo squads move up, Legion provide cover. Daxin, open up a wide array line of fire downrange, hit anything thats not Imperial..." the lot continue their slow march towards the park only blocks ahead, the rendevou point, where all would conglomerate for the next big assault in this debacle. "Roger that TK-4460." The emphasis on that last number deliberate. Daxin moves his shuttle slowly in front of the grund troops. The nose sweeping from side to side as he moves, scanning every doorway and alleyway he comes to in his advance. As carefully as he can be with firepower this large, he puts the odd laser bolt through a door.%r%rFor once Nakasu is agreeing with Fisheye, while she grabs some of the mines from the Calamari, before starting the retreat. "If I blow off my legs, just let me be. I couldn't stand the shame being dragged home by you anyway.", she comments. For some reason Nakasu is much less eager to drop her mines. Well, she has fewer of them anyway, so instead she looks for narrow spots to drop them. Even if the buildings are being leveled, the rubble creates new funnels and canyons, after all and in between the mines go. Keying her comlink to her CO, she announces, "Deployment area hot. Approaching fallback point Besh by south and mining along the way. Clearing Deployment box in 2. Over.". Over her shoulder she calls out: "Hurry up, web-foot!", as those explosions and laser fire from the shuttle keeps getting closer, echoing off what few buildings are still standing. "You're not the deep-fried kind....". Partially obscured by piled rubble, Laslo presses his fingers up against his helmed temple and scans the area, confirming his suspicions. The image enhancement mechanism in his engagement armor providing him with a more detailed view that he would otherwise not have available to him. It doesn't provide him with anymore tactical knowledge than he would otherwise but the scale of what was occurring was far more apparent. "Snipers need to focus on the scouts and the sweepers for explosives. They can't move as quickly if they don't have a path," Laslo states over the comm. His focus is entirely on the events that he can see from his slightly raised vantage point. He'd have to rely on the other two marines crouched near him to warn him of incoming fire. "Mining noted." The commander marks the area for the sake of posterity more than usefulness. They'd likely be disarmed or blown up by then. At which point, the NR troops would be overrun or have managed to stall the Imperials enough to regroup. There is no need to tell the man twice, Genkal is hurrying along as fast as he can, running from cover to cover, from newly-created hole in the ground to blasted remnants of a structure. His own supplies of mines run out, he gets out everything and anything that might be used from his backpack. Satchel charges and even improvised explosives out of whatever he can gather quickly rigged up once he stops and thrown to the ground for an unlucky Imperial to walk over. "Sir, I'm all out, heading towards your position and we're bringing company. Seems like this might be where they'll concentrate their major assault, or one of their major assaults anyway." Aboard the command Lambda with the remnants of his squad and other onboard, TK-4460, Ansforth, looks through one of the viewports to Foamwander, his helmet off for the first time in what feels like years. A grin on his features, despite the sight of the Lancer frigate falling from fire, the other craft making their steady withdrawal, firing back at Rebel craft should they pursue. "Four Four Six Three, send a burst transmission to Firebase Aurek-Zek... Acceptable losses, mission completed, burst transmit to Task Force of our success..." the other trooper nodding with a smile. The squad CO then resumes looking out at the destruction, so many men lost, so many assets. But in the name of the Empire, in the name of Freedom and in the name of what is right within the galaxy. "Also send out, funeral details for the lost once we're off this pathetic aqua-ball. I want all unit commanders to take count of who fell for the glory of the Empire... so they may be committed to the holo-memorials." Turning away from the sight, looking to the men both hale and injured within the passenger hold. Taking a seat at last, resting his hands in his lap, resplendent. Miracles of miracle, Genkal is on one of the shuttles transporting out the retreating forces, the Mon Calamari, however, is not the happiest of campers at the moment. An entire city lost, rubble remaining where once there was a thriving place, and the massive evacuation that took the inhabitants out to safer areas does not make up for it all much. Especially when one consider what the Foamwander engagement, or whatever name it will be given, will do the area around the city in terms of environmental damage. Still, despite the strategic loss, he can take comfort in the knowledge that it was not a tactical defeat. Or rather, he could take comfort in it were he not holding the bloody wound on the right side of his body. At least the Mon Calamari is so heavily shot up with pain medicine that he feels little of the pain he should be feeling. Category:Logs